


Abandon All Your Logic, And Put Your Money On It

by CapricornBookworm



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Banter, Birthday Sex, Clothed Sex, Coming In Pants, Dancer Draco Malfoy, Dirty Talk, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Harry's Birthday, Idiots in Love, Kissing, Lapdance, M/M, Stripper Draco Malfoy, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 00:11:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15521787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapricornBookworm/pseuds/CapricornBookworm
Summary: For Harry’s birthday, Ron and Hermione decided to send him to a gay strip club. Of course, no one informed Harry that Draco Malfoy was a stripper there.





	Abandon All Your Logic, And Put Your Money On It

****

It had been a long day.

Harry had never been much of a fan of his birthday, more content to be distracted by the mundane tasks of everyday rather than dwell on the number of years he had spent fighting for his life and the lives of others. When Harry had finished with work for the day, he had intended to lock up his office in the Ministry and then Floo home, an unopened bottle of Firewhiskey, a camembert, and several slices of rye toast awaiting him for a quiet evening alone.

As Harry raised his wand arm to lock and ward his office, Ron’s voice rang out from behind him, and he felt a sense of dread pooling in his stomach, “Surprise, mate!”

“Ron, I thought I told you _not_ to do anything celebratory for my birthday,” Harry said with an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes when he saw that Ron was wearing an obnoxiously shiny Muggle party hat and a sash that read ‘Birthday Boy’ in large block letters. 

“Yes, and when does Ronald ever listen?” Hermione’s voice called as she rounded the corner, holding a clutch purse in one hand and balancing a large stack of books in her other. 

“Well, I sure hope you weren’t intending to give me all of those books, Hermione. I do enough reading of reports and files during the work day.”

Hermione scoffed and made a comment about how Harry really needed to rediscover the " _joys of reading,_ " but before Harry could make a retort, Ron was grabbing his arm and steering him off toward the Floo. Harry waved his wand quickly over his shoulder, sending off a few of his most basic wards to protect his office and allowing himself to be guided away, mentally crossing his fingers that his friends had planned something low-key.

As Harry’s feet landed on solid ground, the uncomfortable tug in the pit of his stomach and the slight smell of singed fabric fading, Harry found that he was not surprised to be standing inside a Wizarding gay strip club. 

Ron and Hermione stepped in front of him, Ron beaming as though he had just been awarded unlimited Chocolate Frogs for life, and Hermione looking as proud as though she had just solved the mysteries of the universe before tea. 

“You shouldn’t have… really,” Harry said, trying to sound appreciative even though he wanted nothing more than to turn around and go home.

Hermione clapped her hands giddily, “Oh it was no problem at all!” She then dug in her bag, coming up with a change of shirt, a bottle of cologne, and a wad of Muggle cash. Clearly Hermione had taken to adding an Undetectable Extension charm onto all of her handbags.

Harry raised his eyebrows as Hermione held the items out to him. 

“Go on then, mate! Find yourself a bloke… or a bird… or whatever it is you like these days!” Ron said, his face so full of ernest love and adorable confusion that Harry couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“It’s always been blokes, Ron. Just blokes.”

“Well that’s brilliant, this place is full of ‘em,” Ron replied while gesturing around unnecessarily, as though Harry was not aware that the place was full of half-naked, gyrating men. 

Harry gave the pair of them a tense smile and accepted the items Hermione piled into his arms.

Ron gave him a final encouraging pat on the back before he headed off toward the bar. “I should probably go after him,” Hermione said, eyeing Ron warily as an exceptionally large and incredibly muscled man stepped into Ron’s personal space, clad only in a pair of leather pants and a studded black leather harness. “I don’t think Ron realizes that man wants to have sex with him.”

They both watched as the man stroked a hand over Ron’s glittering ‘Birthday Boy’ sash and handed him a drink - which Ron giddily accepted - and then steered him off toward a veiled lounge with a hand on his lower back.

“How long d’you reckon it would take him to realize that Big Burly over there is trying to fuck him?” Harry asked, shaking his head fondly at Ron’s cluelessness.

Hermione hummed, tilting her head to the side as she considered, “I’d say he’d realize just as the man was about to… well, you know,” she flushed.

Harry chuckled, “You might want to go rescue him before someone takes his gay virginity.”

“I’m on it,” Hermione replied, already turning to head in Ron’s direction eyeing him warily, but she hesitated, “Harry? Promise me you’ll have fun… and be open to something new, something unexpected.” When Harry remained silent, Hermione whacked him on the arm and pinned him with an intimidating glare, _“Promise?”_

“Blimey, Hermione! Yeah, I promise,” he replied, rubbing a hand over his arm. 

Hermione seemed satisfied and turned around once more, weaving her way through the crowd to find Ron.

Letting out a deep sigh, Harry headed over toward the loos, changing into the shirt Hermione had brought him and tucking the wad of money into his trouser pocket. He sniffed the bottle of cologne and nearly choked from the scent, coughing as he set it down on the edge of a sink. Someone else would surely enjoy it, but Harry didn’t fancy smelling like a combination of Doxy repellent and the stench of a pumpkin beginning to rot. 

As Harry exited the loo, he adjusted his shirt and shoved his hands into his pockets, walking out into the crowd of men. 

Just as a song was ending, an announcer’s voice boomed through the club, “Let’s all turn our attention toward the main stage for a performance by our top three dancers... Jude Love, Arlo Rider, and Asher Phoenix!”

Three spotlights illuminated the corners of a triangle-shaped stage, the steady thrum of a new song beginning to beat. Harry watched as each of the three dancers Apparated into existence on the platform, first Jude, then Arlo, and finally Phoenix, front and center, their names shimmering above their heads for a brief moment before the dancing began.

Harry’s gaze traveled across the stage, taking in each of the men in turn. Arlo was short but extremely muscular, his skin the color of dark coffee before Harry added his cream and vanilla, and his head was beautifully smooth. Jude had skin the color of molten caramel with a head of curly black hair and a Beaters build; he boasted strong hair-covered thighs and broad shoulders.

Jude and Arlo were both clad in nothing but a pair of tight silver briefs, the fabric and cut revealing every curve of their arses and bulge of their cocks. Meanwhile, Phoenix was dressed much more conservatively, and unlike the others, he began the show with his back facing the crowd, simply swaying his hips to the music.

While Arlo and Jude were stereotypical muscled men, the man in the middle was something else entirely, and Harry’s eyes felt drawn to him, captivated by his white blond hair and pearlescent skin that reminded Harry of a Veela. 

When Phoenix finally turned around, Harry noticed that he had a line of silver glitter trailing diagonally across his face, his grey eyes moving over the crowd intently while a slow, satisfied smirk spread across his lips. 

In an instant, Harry’s heart stopped, his stomach swooping so deeply he was unsure whether the sensation was one of excitement or dread. Harry would recognize that smirk anywhere: Draco Malfoy.

Harry’s eyes locked on Draco and everything else faded into the background - he wore black trousers that left little to the imagination, a thin white collared shirt with the buttons undone above his sternum, the fabric fluttering away from his body with each spin and grind.

Though Draco was fully dressed, he somehow looked sexier than the other two nearly-naked men combined. His movements were confident, sensual, and carefree, as though Draco was saying _“this is who I am and I don’t give a flying fuck what you think.”_

Everything about him had Harry growing hard inside his trousers and he pressed a palm over his cock, trying to discreetly adjust the length. 

Harry’s body grew hot as he focused in on the sway of Draco’s slim hips, the peak of his nipples barely visible through his thin white shirt, the line of his long neck, and the hint of skin leading down into his trousers that Harry could see when Draco raised his arms above him. 

Suddenly Draco’s gaze intersected with Harry’s, and Harry watched as something akin to surprise flashed over Draco’s face for an instant. It was so fast that Harry was unsure if he’d imagined it, because then the shock was replaced by a look of hunger, his eyes blinking heavily under Harry’s gaze. 

Harry let his eyes wander down Draco’s body and couldn’t help but notice the easy swell of his cock in his trousers, or the way Draco’s fingers grazed it teasingly when he caught Harry looking. Harry shivered involuntarily, feeling as though Draco’s teasing touch was on his own cock.

Draco’s dance moves were unconventional, nothing routine about the way he moved, but the careless confidence was unbelievably sexy, and Harry found himself in awe, watching as each movement flowed effortlessly into the next.

Over the course of Draco’s performance, Harry had shifted closer and closer to the stage, winding his way through the crowd as if in a trance until he was right up at the edge, close enough to touch.

Harry ached with the need to touch, to taste, to _fuck_. He wanted nothing more than to Disapparate the pair of them back to his place so that he could explore every inch of Draco’s body. Harry could feel every nerve inside him tingling, vibrating as he held back the urge to climb up on the stage and drag Draco in for a searing kiss. 

As the song built toward a crescendo, Draco slowed down his motions and Harry swore the world paused, the collective breath of the universe held in rapt anticipation as Draco fell gracefully to his knees, eyes sliding shut as he tipped his head back and arched his neck until Harry could see the tendons standing out beneath his skin, his upper body tipping backwards even as his knees remained firmly planted on the stage beneath him. 

The muscles of Draco’s thighs and abdomen visibly clenched as he lowered his back towards the floor with exquisite control, his entire body bending in a way that had Harry’s breath hitching and his cock swelling with interest, imagining all of the different positions they would be able to try. 

The final note of the song hit and Draco lifted his entire body up once more, ending in a dramatic pose while Harry remained caught up in his fantasies, hardly processing that the performance was over. 

Harry shook himself, refocusing only to see that Draco was now surrounded by a crowd of men, each attempting to dip money into his trousers, many trying to cop a feel as they went. Without more than a moment’s consideration, Harry reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out the wad of cash Hermione had given him earlier. As Draco turned around to collect money from Harry’s side of the stage, his gaze fell onto Harry and he paused, something unreadable in his eyes. 

“Pott -” Draco began, but before he could finish, Harry was interrupting him.

“Here,” Harry said as he handed the entire wad of cash to Draco, rubber band and all. 

Draco’s eyes narrowed, his gaze looking from the stack of money to Harry and then back again, his mouth moving in a silent scowl. 

Then Draco was waving away the other men around them and stepping down off the stage. Harry flinched, wondering if Draco was about slap him. But instead Draco wrapped a long-fingered hand around Harry’s wrist, pulling him through the rowdy crowds of men until they reached a back hallway with six doors, each adorned with the name of a dancer on the front. 

Draco muttered a series of spells beneath his breath, lowering the wards on his room, before they were stepping inside.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Draco rounded on Harry, waving the money in front of him as he exclaimed, “What is this?!”

Harry shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, “Money.”

Draco looked torn between wanting to yell and wanting to laugh.

“I’m not daft, Potter. I know very well that this is money. So why the fuck did you give it to _me?_ ” 

Harry felt a flush creeping over his cheeks and suddenly wished he had a Time-Turner because bloody _hell_ he may have seriously fucked this up, “Dunno,” he replied sheepishly, avoiding Draco’s gaze.

Draco let out a groan of frustration and Harry could feel eyes on him, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to look up. 

A moment passed in silence before Draco’s voice cut through Harry’s thoughts, “Sit down.”

“Huh?” Harry asked, finally lifting his eyes and watching Draco throw the wad of cash down onto a small table in the corner of the room.

“I asked you to sit, Potter,” Draco replied dryly as he gestured to the large emerald-green velvet sofa behind Harry. 

“Why?” Harry asked, because apparently his brain was only capable of supplying him one word at a time in Draco’s presence. 

Instead of replying, Draco stepped forward into Harry’s space, placing both hands on Harry’s chest and leaning in as if for kiss, breath hot where it touched his skin. As Harry was tilting his head, eyes sliding slowly shut, tongue peeking out to moisten his lips, Draco gave him a shove, sending Harry falling back onto the sofa behind him. 

Harry felt a gust of air rush out of his lungs, his head spinning as he gasped for a breath. 

When his eyes reopened, Draco was flicking his wand gently, a soft stream of music beginning to play from a Wizarding wireless that sat on a shelf next to the sofa.

Unable to help himself, Harry asked what Draco was doing. 

“It seems I owe you a dance,” Draco said, “Paid me enough for a private...” he paused letting out something almost like a chuckle, muttering the rest of his sentence so softly Harry just barely made out the words, “...actually paid me for at least _three_ private sessions.”

Harry didn’t quite know how to respond to that, suddenly wondering just how much money Hermione had given him. But he had barely more than a few seconds to contemplate that before Draco was stepping towards him, beginning to sway his hips just as he had on stage.

Draco moved gracefully, sensually, _effortlessly_ , and Harry watched in awe as the tension that had built up in Draco’s body appeared to wash away as he moved. 

He turned and swayed with the music as though they were working in tandem, each complimenting the other although they rarely matched. He shifted on the downbeat, twisted his arms above his head when the rhythm was soft and subtle, walked slowly toward Harry at the height of the refrain, as if the music was announcing his entrance. 

Then Draco was climbing into Harry’s lap and Harry was quite certain that his heart was going to stop because all of his blood was very quickly rushing toward his cock.

Draco was straddling him, knees planted firmly on either side of Harry’s thighs, long torso stretched out and covered only with the thin fabric of his shirt. He made eye contact with Harry, his usually icy eyes a deep stormy grey. While keeping Harry’s gaze, Draco’s hand ghosted over his body, as though daring Harry to touch, hands skimming down his thighs, fingertips grazing the peaks of his nipples through his shirt, the skin pebbling beneath the pad of his thumb.

Then the song changed, the beat slower than it had been before and Draco let out a sigh, eyes fluttering for a moment before Harry felt a touch to his hand. Harry thought it was an accident at first, just an innocent brush of fingers, but then Draco was guiding Harry’s hands towards his shirt, placing Harry’s hands at the curve of his waist and giving him silent permission to touch. 

Harry felt unhinged. It was as though he had been locked away, able to see but unable to touch, and then suddenly the gate had been opened and Harry just stood in the doorway, frozen and terrified of what would happen if he crossed outside the barred doors. Harry felt his heart beating at a hummingbird’s pace against his ribs as a mixture of fear, anxiety, excitement, and lust all swirled together inside him. 

“Go on then,” Draco encouraged softly, his lips quirked in a barely-there smirk as he continued to roll his hips slowly to the beat of the music, his abdomen rippling beneath Harry’s fingers. 

After taking in a steadying breath, Harry traced up toward the buttons of Draco’s shirt with shaking fingers, unhooking each pearly white button carefully, his mouth going dry as more and more of Draco’s smooth abdomen was revealed, his lithe body moving in a sinuous fashion, his hips slowly grinding closer to Harry’s own. 

When the shirt finally fell open, Harry couldn’t help but smooth his hands up and down Draco’s body, tracing over scars and lines of lean muscle, a rush of heat coursing through Harry’s cock when Draco let out an appreciative moan, his hips circling lower and lower toward Harry’s lap. 

A flush rose to Harry’s cheeks and he let out a small gasp as Draco’s hips brushed lightly over the front of Harry’s trousers, setting his already hardened cock alight with pleasure, desperate for a firm hand or a firm arse. 

Draco smirked at Harry’s reaction and grinded lower once more, now moving deliberately against Harry’s cock, and this time Harry could feel something hard pressing back against him, Draco’s own length pressing hot and hard even through the layers of clothing between them. 

“ _Fuck_ , Draco,” Harry sighed out, his voice small and breathless as Draco began grinding more firmly.

“Draco, huh? When did I stop being Malfoy to you?” Draco asked, reaching around Harry to place his hands on the back of the couch, giving himself a firm base as he ground their cocks together with increasing force, heat building with the friction in a way that was setting Harry’s nerves on fire. 

“Around the time I realized that instead of hexing you, I’d much rather - ahhh - fuck you,” Harry breathed out as he lifted his hips in search of more, more, _more_

“Clever,” Draco replied with a chuckle, “And when was that?” 

“‘Bout an hour ago,” Harry said, smirking when Draco scoffed. 

Harry whined when Draco’s hands shifted, arms now wrapped around Harry’s neck as they rutted against one another, their frantic rhythm painful in a way that made something tug at the base of Harry’s spine, had gooseflesh spreading across his skin, had his toes curling and his eyes sliding shut. 

“Shit, shit… You close, Potter? Close just thinking about how hard you would fuck me?” 

Harry could barely muster more than a groan in reply, Draco’s words lighting him up until he felt like he was floating. Harry had always been turned on by sounds, by voices, by words. The combination of their ragged breathing, Draco’s ever-pompous voice, and the dirty talk now spilling freely from Draco’s lips, had Harry teetering on the edge of an orgasm. 

“Wanted to fuck me right up on stage where everyone could watch, didn’t you Potter?” Draco teased, his voice low in Harry’s ear, breath warm as it rushed over the sensitive skin of Harry’s neck, “Or maybe you wanted to take me home instead, rip off all my clothes as we made our way to your room… You’d open me up slow with your fingers, ignoring how hard my cock was getting until I was begging for - fuck - begging for your cock inside of me.” 

“Fucking hell, I - " 

“How would you want me, Potter? On my hands and knees, bent over a table, standing up against wall?” 

“On your back,” Harry responded, biting down on his lip as he fought to keep from coming, “I’d want your legs on my - ah! - shoulders. Want to see your face while I fuck you.” 

Draco let out a deep groan, pressing his forehead against Harry’s as they grinded their hips together. Just when Draco looked like he was about to open his mouth to say something, Harry tilted his head up and captured Draco’s lips in a kiss, each slide of their lips sending sparks spreading hotly throughout his body. Draco’s opened after a moment, allowing Harry to dip his tongue inside, and that was all it took before Harry was coming, his cock spilling over the inside of his trousers, a wet spot forming as it pulsed, shockwaves flowing out from his body as Draco continued to kiss him. 

As Harry’s orgasm moved through him, Draco own hips paused, giving Harry space to come. But when Harry opened his eyes again, he realized that Draco was still hard, his cock straining against the inside of his trousers. 

“C’mere, let me help with that,” Harry said, gesturing for Draco to turn around. 

Draco obliged, the pair of them shuffling awkwardly until his back was pressed to Harry’s front, Draco’s shirt still splayed open. Harry reached around to press his palm against Draco’s bare stomach, guiding him to relax back into Harry. Once they were settled, Harry slid his hands down Draco’s abdomen and teased over the waistband of his trousers, smiling when he felt Draco shiver in his arms. 

Then Harry undid the top button, pulling down the zipper of Draco’s trousers gently until he could see Draco’s cock lying just below the folds of fabric, “This okay?” 

“Well I wouldn’t have let you do it if it wasn’t,” Draco replied, though his voice shook as Harry dipped his hand beneath his trousers to pull out his cock, the usual malice in his voice all but nonexistent. 

“If you act like a brat, I’ll stop,” Harry said as he stroked his hand easily up and down Draco’s hard cock, swiping his thumb over the slick head and feeling the velvety slide of foreskin with each stroke. 

“Fuck, just get on with it, will you?” Draco whined, the head of his cock flushed darkly. 

Harry didn’t hesitate, getting to work stroking Draco with a firm grip while his other hand explored the rest of Draco, dancing across his chest to tweak his pink nipples and ghosting lightly over Draco’s balls. 

With every few strokes, Draco’s cock dripped more precome, the sticky liquid clinging to Harry’s fingertips in long translucent strings as he spread it across the slit and over the swell of the head. 

It didn’t take long before Draco was crying out, his entire body arching as his head dipped back to rest on Harry’s shoulder, his come spilling out in short spurts over Harry’s fingers. 

After they had both come, they changed positions on the small sofa, Draco leaning back against an armrest while his feet rested in Harry’s lap. They sat in comfortable silence for a minute, Harry absentmindedly rubbing the arches of Draco’s feet and the tender muscles of his ankle. 

“Why were you even here tonight?” Draco asked after a moment, looking at Harry thoughtfully. 

“Ron and Hermione brought me here.” 

Draco laughed at that, giving Harry a sly smile, “Because you needed to get laid?” 

Harry shook his head, and avoided Draco’s gaze, focusing instead on the press of his thumbs into Draco’s foot, “Because it was my birthday." 

“Oh.” 

Harry swallowed, anxiety creeping up inside him as he wondered what Draco must think. 

But then Draco was shifting forward and winding his fingers gently into the messy strands of Harry’s hair and pulling him in for a deep kiss. Draco clearly had a message to convey and Harry drank it all in, his heart beating strongly, steadily in his chest. 

When they parted from the kiss, Draco’s eyes were lidded and his lips were flushed in a way that made him look even more handsome than usual. Draco smiled then, pressing an extra peck to Harry’s lips as he whispered, “Happy Birthday… _Harry_.” 

****

**Author's Note:**

> This fic took me quite a while to write, but it’s finally done! A bit late for Harry’s birthday, but I hope you all like it. Special thanks to L for reading little snippets of this along the way! Title from: “Kamikaze” by Walk the Moon. 
> 
> Comments and kudos make my days brighter <3


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